Revenge
by Huntress4455
Summary: "People can do terrible things when they're acting out of love" A one-shot about a "missing" scene from the first book: the fight between Cato and Thresh. Written in Cato's POV.


**A/N: Hello fellow fanfic reader! Well, I felt like writing something in a villain's point of view and here's what I came up with. The fight between Cato and Thresh! Please take a moment to read and review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy, written by the very talented Suzanne Collins. **

**Revenge**

**(The night of the Feast during the 74****th**** annual Hunger Games)**

The rain. That was the only thing I could register in my mind as I sat at the entrance of the tent that had first occupied five…and then there was one: me. My knuckles turned white as I tightly gripped my sword with the hand that was caked with blood, dirt, and who knows what else.

Being the only Career left, I should have been happy. These Games, after all, were meant for winning. I should have been ecstatic, since there were only about four tributes left to murder. I should have been joyful that soon, I would be able to bring my district glory and fame.

So why was I so depressed, all of a sudden?

My hand gripped the sword tighter as the rain kept pouring down, drenching everything in sight. The grass was being cleansed of the bloodbath that had occurred during the Feast today…the Feast…her death…

The rain poured down even harder, as though the Gamemakers were planning to wash us all away in a sea of tributes. The water droplets seemed to compensate for the amount of tears that, all of a sudden, I was forcing to keep in my eyes. Why, _why _had I been too late to save her?

That single question forced out a single, stubborn tear out of my eye. It trailed down my face and my hand was suddenly too lazy to wipe it off. Anyway, it was most likely lost in the combination of sweat, blood, and dirt that now inhabited the regions of my face, a face that was once handsome, full of pride and joy. Now it was just miserable.

My eyes suddenly darted to the sky, which had now darkened into a gorgeous shade of royal blue. How long had I been sitting her? Much longer than I had meant to.

As I walked inside the tent and closed the flap, I felt an emotion I had never yet felt in the arena: fear. There wasn't anyone left to guard the tent, but then again, with the amount of tributes running around the arena, the probability of somebody even coming within a half mile of her was smaller than a blade of grass. And the Gamemakers wouldn't add in any of their "surprises". There had been enough blood and gore at the feast today…

_I held her hand as the life bled out of her from that wound that bastard had given her. He was already heading over the hill (with my pack), but at that moment, I didn't care the slightest. I only had eyes for her now._

"_Don't leave," she whispered, clutching my hand with all the strength she had remaining._

"_Never," I replied, brushing her auburn hair away from those gorgeous eyes. "I'm staying here until…until-"_

_I couldn't find myself to finish that sentence, but luckily, she did it before me._

"_Until I die."_

_I nodded, gently pressing my hand to the wound upon her head. She winced, but didn't object, and soon the warm blood from her hood was smooth and slick between my fingers, tainting them a bright red._

_I felt her squeeze my hand very gently and I looked at her tired, weak expression as she struggled to keep her eyes open. _

"_Promise me something, Cato."_

"_Anything, just name it," I automatically responded, putting a hand to her face._

"_Win…win these Games for our district and…and for me. Promise me that…please."_

_I gulped down a sob that was threatening to escape my throat. It felt like my heart, rather than my head, was controlling my actions when I nodded assent and said, without any hesitation._

"_Of course…and it'll start with killing that tribute who took your life."_

A clasp of thunder brought me back to life from the depths of my mind. I could finally think now and I realized that I had to fulfill the promise I made to her. To avenge her death. To kill Thresh. To win these Games for our district.

Another roar of thunder illuminated the world outside the tent and a shadow of a tree branch reflected itself upon the tent's fabric, forming a rather eerie image if one saw it from the inside.

With natural reflexes, I snatched up my sword and was about to lunge at the ceiling of the tent, before I realized it was just a shadow. Cursing under my breath, I was glad that the cameras couldn't see me here. I laid back down on the sleeping bag, pulling the blanket up to my chin while still having my sword tightly clenched in my hand. Despite the fact there were only about four tributes left and it was pretty unlikely the Gamemakers would send in a muttation for some "fun", I was still constantly alert at whatever sound there was outside that didn't sound like rain…up until my drowsiness pulled me into a calm, dreamless sleep.

_He's the one I have to kill first. To avenge her death and then…I'll deal with everyone else._

This thought kept replaying itself in my mind as I hiked in the rain the next afternoon, looking for Thresh. It wasn't difficult to track him. Us Careers had suspected his whereabouts for quite sometime yet we didn't do anything about it. We were only concerned with killing off the weaklings for some reason…

I felt like I could catch him by surprise in these grasses. But as I ventured further and further into them, I realized that might not have been so easy. I could hardly see five feet in front of me with this rain pouring down and every step I took caused water to slosh around in every direction.

After about five minutes of sloshing around in this mixture of mud, water, and grasses, I felt like I had enough. I couldn't tolerate it anymore. Where the hell was this bastard? Just as I paused for a second, I heard it.

Footsteps. Heavy, lumbering footsteps headed in my way.

I didn't take any chances. Unsheathing my sword, I turned around and saw him about five meters away. Well…more like I saw his silhouette, but whom else in this arena could form footfalls this heavy?

We stood in our spots for so many long moments, awkwardly surveying each other in this pouring rain. Then, out of nowhere, Clove's voice seemed to echo in my head:

"_Win these Games for me…and our district."_

It was those words that caused me to make the first move in this fight. I lifted my sword into the air and ran towards him, emitting a battle cry loud enough to be heard throughout this whole arena, even in this vicious storm.

The first contact our swords made was a clang near loud enough to deafen my ears. And just like that, we were off and fighting.

I couldn't even see where his sword was half the time. I couldn't even hear our swords making contact anymore or his face. The rain poured down on us even harder. It was like the Gamemakers wanted to make this fight even more dramatic for all of Panem to watch.

The idea alone made me angry, but it still didn't top how furious I would be if he won this fight. Or these Games. The very tribute who had killed her…

Buckets kept pouring down on us. I couldn't even hear my own footsteps anymore. All the fighting that I now did was defensive. Trying my best to not let him kill me. That wasn't right. _He _was the one that was supposed to be feeling what I was feeling now. Why was this happening?

It was like I was deep underwater, attempting to win a fight I never could in a billion years. I could feel my strength ebbing away, as I became more and more careless. I received a cut to my face, a gash to my chest, another slash at my leg…

Fatigue came over me. A great urge suddenly overcame me, an urge to just fling my sword away and stop fighting. He could just murder me and it would all be over…

"_Win these Games for me…and our district."_

That voice, those words…It was enough to bring me my strength back. With a mighty roar, a new wave of strength came over me.

I was the offense now and he was the defense, desperately attempting to keep up with my vicious swipes to the head. Mud kept sloshing up as we fought and it would occasionally blind my vision, but even with the time I took to wipe it off, he still couldn't lay another swipe on me.

I could win now. I could sense the fear from him as he now either dodged or parried my strikes, unable to deliver any of his own.

I don't recall how it happened, but one second I was using my sword to parry one of his weak strikes…and then that sword was lodged deep in his stomach.

He collapsed to the ground in a splash of mud, water, and blood. His face crumpled into an expression of agony as his hand dropped his sword and grabbed the hilt of mine that was embedded in his stomach.

With Clove's promise in my mind, I walked over to her murderer and wretched my precious sword out of his stomach. That cry of agony as the blood from his wound poured out like a waterfall nearly made me laugh wickedly. But I restrained myself from saying anything. The audience would never truly know the reason why I killed him.

I suddenly saw something that was on his back: a large black pack with the number 2 on it. My pack…

I slashed it away from his back with my sword and slung it onto my back. The slashes from attempting to get the pack were deep enough themselves to kill him.

He now laid on the ground as the life bled out of him, just like it did with his only victim in these Games. The look on his dying face was clear: _why did you do this?_

I only wished I could honestly answer him why…but these were the Hunger Games. There were no emotions here, just killing and death. Of course, there were those "star-crossed" lovers that I would now hunt down. And then…I would win these Games.

I wanted to torture that bastard, but that would kill him even faster. I wanted him to suffer from that wound, suffer to death. All that pain would be sufficient enough.

I walked away from the scene and when I was at least a quarter of a mile away, I heard the cannon. Its fire was loud enough to overcome the boisterous sound of the thunder and rain, which had eased down quite a bit, but was still pretty loud.

From a distance, his body looked like a bloody mess of any other victim I had killed, not a vicious tribute that I had nearly lost a fight with. Not the person who had cost my beloved her life…

As the hovercraft disappeared from view, I wished I could have answered that expression on his dying face with a simple sentence.

_Sorry Thresh…but people can do terrible things when they're acting out of love._

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading and don't forget to review! :P **


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